Through Another's Eyes
by maytimemagic
Summary: Their relationship ended. No one knows why. Only one has the answer. And he’s not talking... or is he?


**Title:** Through Another's Eyes

**Author:** maytimemagic

**Pairing:** Draco/Harry (implied)

**Rating:** T

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Warnings:** Extreme angst ahead. As well as implied evil!Ginny.

**Summary:** Their relationship ended. No one knows why. Only one has the answer. And he's not talking... or is he?

**Author's Notes:** This is a random idea that popped into my head while packing up my dorm room last year. This also is unbeta'ed as I don't have one. Please feel free to point out my grammatical errors. Comments are much appreciated.

Through Another's Eyes

Here I am on my shelf again. Things are different now though. The laughter is gone and he is all alone. Only one word leaves his lips anymore: "Harry"

I remember when I was soft and new. I was on a shelf then too. But I was bought out of love as a present for his Harry. Those were happy times. His grey eyes were always laughing and the green eyed, dark haired man, his Harry, was here too. But he is gone now. I don't know what happened, but one day everything changed.

I remember Harry came home ecstatic about something. He was radiating happiness and it was contagious. They celebrated into the wee hours of the morning that night. Just enjoying each others company. But he was not as happy as he seemed. Behind those grey eyes was a sadness that no one seemed to notice. He laughed and smiled for his Harry but his heart wasn't in it.

The strange part is there was no fighting or yelling. Neither one of them cried. Harry just got up one morning, packed his things and left. I think it had to do with his happy news. He didn't seem too upset at first. It was almost like he was expecting it. Whatever the cause, he checked the paper everyday; I'm not sure if he was looking for news anymore or if it was just out of habit. He used to clip out articles and keep them in a box on my shelf. All the articles featured a smiling "Harry" usually on a broom, sometimes diving, holding a little gold bird. He looked happy to anyone who didn't know how to look. The happiness was all a scam. But I saw it behind his eyes; there was a sadness there. The same sadness I've seen in his grey eyes every day since he left.

He saved these articles for years. Soon there were too many articles and not enough boxes to hold them all. That's when it stopped. The clippings, the crying, the gatherings, the soft sweet smiles, everything stopped. It was like time itself stopped to be replaced by something vile. That's when the hours of blank stares started. Along with the long sleepless nights of boozing, and the nightmares that haunted him even while he was awake. I thought Harry had banished the dark dreams, but without him here, he can't keep them away anymore.

One day I became curious and looked at the last article, the one he would spend hours poring over; the one that stopped time. I don't know why he was so upset. Harry was finally smiling like he meant it. The sadness behind his eyes was gone, and he was radiating happiness again. Maybe it had something to do with the short beautiful red head on his arm. She definitely was an eye full. Or maybe it had something to do with the letters M-A-R-R-I-E-D in the headline. Whatever the reason he is miserable now. I doubt Harry would recognize him anymore. He is a shell of what he used to be.

I wonder if Harry would recognize me as the beautiful bear he bought him on a whim one bright sunny Saturday afternoon. I use to be brown and fluffy. I use to remind them of their love. I use to be well loved myself. Now I am dingy and an indiscriminant color. My fur is in patches and my seams are worn. I remind him of his Harry and now it hurts him like it never did before.

So here I sit on my shelf surrounded by all the boxes of old articles and the various other trinkets of his affections. Now we are a shrine to what he lost. We are all that is left of his Harry.


End file.
